


It Hurts To Become

by JForward



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Accidental Sex, Both at the same time he's a multitasker, Character Development, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Like there's sex in there but it's not smut, Minor Angst, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Self Confidence Issues, Student Newt, Teacher Newt, Underage Drinking, implied self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JForward/pseuds/JForward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post War, Newt is left alone to consider what to do with himself now that his usefulness has lived it's course. A text from an old friend reminds him of his college days that shaped him into the man that helped end the apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to DancyWolfWorks for my invite :D The title comes from a quote by Andrea Gibson;   
> “I said to the sun, ‘Tell me about the big bang.’ The sun said, ‘it hurts to become.”

Prologue.

Newt sighed deeply, sinking back to lay on his bed; hooking his foot under the other, he wriggled off his boots and let them thunk despondently to the floor. This room was dusty, unkempt - he'd barely been in here before the end of the war. Now the Shatterdome was emptying out. People were going home, back to their families, back to lives that had been put on hold for ten years. He slid off his tie and flicked it onto the floor, unclipping the PPDC badge from his belt and looking at his face as of a decade ago, when he'd been welcomed into the military's fold as one of their key scientists. He didn't look a huge amount different... a little thinner, a little more hair, no red ring around his left iris and a lot less television appearances. He grinned slightly and put it on the bedside table, popping the first button of his shirt as he got comfortable, propping up a pillow to lean against. 

He wasn't sure why he'd come up to his room now. Maybe the lab felt just a little bit too empty. Hermann was gone, after all - back to London, back to his family, back to working in chalk and numbers instead of the reek of ammonia. Hermann was probably delighting in the peace and quiet without the pounding music and constant verbal sparring, but Newt wasn't. He didn't like quiet. He liked noise, activity helped focus his mind, being alone dragged his mind down. It was one of the reasons they'd worked so well together! They were constantly at war, spoken skirmishes that kept their wit honed like blades. He felt like he was rusting, left on a shelf untouched for the last few weeks, a scalpel smeared with Kaiju Blue and abandoned, the acid fizzling and wrecking the surface. 

He didn't work well without another person. After ten years, he'd grown accustomed to the way Hermann fit into the workspace. The rangers were those who would fight their battles in the Kwoon room, patterns and balance found with the sweep of violence - but they had a completely different dance. He could tell by the click of Hermann's cane how much the man could take that day, they both knew when to stop, or how to keep going to strike real hurt. Not all that dissimilar, just less chance of unpleasant bruising. Newt removed his glasses and put them aside, rubbing at his eyes as they itched and throbbed. Alone. Old feelings that he'd hidden away for so long, desires that - left untouched - bubbled now thicker and more toxic than ever after so long. 

Without even thinking, he reached out and opened the top drawer of his bedside cabinet, which contained his balled up socks and clean underwear - he'd figured that nobody would go digging there. Fingers brushed something with a little scrape of metal on wood, and he pulled it out. Turning the item in his fingertips, he remembered it being much smaller; despite it being such an incredible long time since he'd used it ... almost twenty years now ... he couldn't bring himself to throw it away. Neglect had made it rust slightly, but he could see the edge was still sharp. He remembered smashing the pencil sharpener underfoot in order to get this. Swallowing back the taste of bile and longing, he let his head flop back a little, still turning the cold blade over and over in his fingertips.

He was aware of his stupid this was. Idiotic. How being on his own could bring up the stupid desires of an overwrought teenager. He bit his lip slightly, flinging the blade into the drawer and slamming it shut. He should never have brought that damnable thing with him, should've thrown it in the bin a hideously long time ago. Sliding off his ring, he put it on the side next to his glasses, leaving on the leather bracelets, then reached into his pocket, wriggling out his cell phone. He was about to drop it on the side table when he realised there was a pulsing light on the top. When had he gotten a text? Nobody communicated with him any more. Opening up the menu, his eyes widened slightly in shock at the name and number.

It took him a moment to place her. Such a long time since they had last spoken. 

_Hey Dr. Geiszler, I don't know if this number still works. Saw you on the news. Still as crazy as ever! I have a job offer for you, at my University. I'm a dean now. If I don't get a response, I'll assume I have the wrong number and find another way to get in touch. Take care. J. x_

Newt covered his mouth slightly with his hand and smiled, pride swelling in him. He always knew she could do it. Then his mind turned back to the past. Teaching again. Back to that life... but maybe things could be different this time. The world certainly was. He glanced at his sock drawer, then back to the phone, tapping the 'reply' button.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sorry if this chapter seems like filler - it's not. I was trying to establish something but I think it feels too jumpy. I've tried to prevent that but, unfortunately, it's somewhat the nature of the fic. Enjoy!

Chapter One

It was at school that they'd first started realising that little Newton Geiszler wasn't smart. He didn't seem like a _smart kid_ \- that was the interesting part of it. He lived with his father and his father's wife, who made no secret of the fact that she absolutely despised Newt. For anyone that looked, Newt really didn't care what the woman thought of him; he was too busy causing trouble. It was only when he was about eight that they started to realise his vandalism was caused by boredom - and that was when he started to get shunted off to his uncle.

It was his uncle that bought him his first Gameboy. It was his uncle that leant him his old collection of Godzilla movies. It was his uncle who found him playing with his broken keyboard in the attic - and when Newt suggested fixing it, Illia didn't scoff at him, but went on the computer and looked up the schematics of the keyboard so that they could work out how to fix it. It was his uncle that took him to the countryside to hunt for his namesakes in ditches and taught him about their lives. It was his uncle that realised Newt wasn't a _smart kid_. 

It was Illia who stood against his father when his father called Newt an idiot, worthless boy. 

Newt took the name for himself when he was twelve and had taken all he could take at school. There's only so many apples that can be launched at your head - the worst an amphibian could get was water thrown at him. He got special permission to work in the lab meant for the sixth formers - that special group of sixteen to eighteen year olds who stayed at school instead of going to college - after hours. He decided to learn English so that he could talk in online chatrooms; borrowing some of the workbooks from school, he learnt enough off his own back to be speaking it practically fluently in less than a year. By that point, the people who really mattered at school had started to notice that Newt wasn't a _smart kid_.

It was his uncle that took an essay he'd written for fun on a small device he'd made with the home mechanics kit (ages fifteen+) - that his father had been persuaded into buying for him when he was ten - and sent off to several American universities. He sat advanced placement exams when he was fourteen, and aced all of them; on his fifteenth birthday, his family gathered for the first party he'd had since he was five years old. His present was the scholarship offer from MIT. His uncle's gift was the term paid for in one of the best halls of residence at the American university - or _college_ , as they said.  
His father said he was paying for the flights, even though that was included in the scholarship.

Newt remembered not sleeping that night, disturbed by the family arguing downstairs, and made his decision. This was his chance, after all. "I'll prove it to you." he whispered, rubbing his eyes with the edge of the quilt, in muted English. Just to make the point. "I'm not an idiot. I'll be a rockstar one day. I promise you, I will." he smiled tightly and burrowed down into the pillow, trying to ignore the escalating voices from downstairs. Just a month. A month and he'd be in America. It was a shock, yes, but he was excited... he didn't care about being alone, being fifteen. 

His father didn't come to the airport.

Before he boarded, he hugged his uncle tight, promising to ring, and stepped back, beaming up at him with tears in his bright green eyes. Illia ruffled his hair, replying in gruff German, "I know you will, Newt. You're not a smart kid - you're a genius. Don't you ever forget that. Just come see me when you're running the world. Now get on that flight, and ring me when you get home." he patted Newt on the back and he practically ran to board, glancing back only once before heading off for his new life.  
\---  
Newt slammed the door to the dorm room shut, sinking to the floor and burying his head in his hands, trying to control his breathing, the wretched sobs threatening to start up again. He'd been here two weeks now. That was all, two weeks - and yet here he was, practically in tears. He forced himself up to slump on his bed, dragging his only half-unpacked case into the open and shoving the Godzilla DVD into his computer, staring at the screen. He had a massive amount of work to do, but first he had to calm down. He wasn't a stupid child. He was fifteen, for god's sake. 

It wasn't that the work was difficult - in fact, the work he'd been given so far was incredibly easy, and he was enjoying that side immensely. The problem was the looks that people were giving him, the stares in the corridor, the constant questions from staff if he was in the right place, who was he looking for, what older sibling? They were driving him crazy. His eyes were itching - the whiteboard was hard to see when he was at the back of the classroom, but no one else seemed to be struggling. Great. He was one of the youngest students ever accepted to MIT yet, here he was - crying in his room because some idiot lecturer had shouted at him to get off the premisis - because he was _far too young to be a student_. 

He rolled onto his back, letting the familiar sound wash over him, staring up at the ceiling. Scholarship student. His bank account was full, and he was supposed to be a genius, and he was crying in his room over some idiot shouting at him for no good reason. Newt sat up slowly, hugging his legs to his chest. Determination washed over him and he grabbed his bag from the floor, dragging it over. "I'll show them." he hissed, pulling out his work and starting to spread out it. He wasn't old enough to go and drink, as the other students could - he missed Germany. "If I was a teacher, I'd never say that to someone. Make them feel bad for not fitting in." he muttered to himself, starting to type.

The idea began to germinate in his head and, halfway through the research, he paused and sat back a little. "If I was a teacher..." he murmured, again, and then started to smile a little. If he was a teacher. That sentence sounded nice to him. Rubbing his eyes a little with the back of his hand, he focused again on the words. This doctorate looked like it was going to be easy enough... he could probably handle a teaching course at the same time. Piece of cake. Grinning now, he let the movie play as he worked, already makng plans to ring Illia that evening. 

_Dr Geiszler. I like that. I'd be the teacher that people liked. Once I'm done being a rockstar, after all..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, comments and creative criticism are loved! Thank you!


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

He was nervous, but that was completely logical. His class was planned out on his memory stick, everything was set up - he was going to teach his first biology class at MIT. This moment had been coming ever since he turned eighteen and was accepted to teach, just over a month ago; the nerves fizzled through his veins the same way they had when he was working on his final project for his engineering doctorate. Now, at eighteen, he had two, as well as a teaching qualification - having persuaded them to let him pick up the biology course as he was working through his very first. He'd completed the engineering course in half the time that he was supposed to - and the same with the biology course. In fact, he'd started another just recently - finding a hunger for these more interesting courses like he'd never felt before. 

It hadn't been until well into the year that the other students - most in their twenties, the second youngest being eighteen - had finally begun to respect the fifteen year old in their midst. A group project cemented how smart he really was (especially considering he did the majority of the work), and he'd found a good friend base here at MIT. Despite that, though, there was still a border between the groups. After all, he was only fifteen. You could just about get away with drinking at eighteen, the older students buying in the dorms and bringing in whatever paraphenalia the younger students required. He didn't know if it was prudence or the knowledge the faculty were keeping an eye on the youngest scholarship student, but he was permanently shunted out of these parties. Honestly, the only desire he felt to drink was for the companionship.

Mostly, he stayed isolated, working on achieving the doctorates, and the teaching course. He'd begun to find a style in skinny jeans, wooden and leather jewlerry, and a cocky attitude; what did it matter if they judged him? That was life. But there was this feeling that hung around him - this constant expectation that if he was a genius he had to be a nerd, with a knapsack and sweatervest. The glasses didn't help much - but he'd made the decision to spend a little of his scholarship on something special. The Ray Bans were expensive, but he liked them - they shaped his face well. 

The class was there before him, a lot of muttering between those who hadn't heard of _Dr Geiszler_. They were expecting a cranky old German guy, Newt expected, as he strode into the class and offered them a nervous grin, putting down his briefcase. "Good morning, class." he called out, eyes flittering between them. The muttering in the lecture hall started almost immediately, and nerves tightened his chest. He was aware enough to know a disrespectful mutter when he heard one, and irritation bloomed - these students all seemed to be older than him, in their twenties at the least, some almost to their thirties (although those didn't seem to be muttering.) A few words jumped out to him - _older than I am, useless teachers,_ \- and he took a careful breath.

"My name's Dr Geyser - Geiszler, sorry - and you're the first class I ever get to teach!" he gestured with his hands and grinned at them, trying to be bright and friendly. But he was terrified. The jacket, shirt, tie, all felt too constricting to him, but he was determined to be smart and work well with them. He began to set up the projector, "Now, I want to launch right into it. Let's get the register done, and then we can, uh, we can get ... right into it. So." he fumbled around for the register. Where was it? He was sure it was on the desk. There were low laughs and he frowned, "Sorry, uh, I can't find the ... the register, uh..." he felt like he was missing something.

"Dr Gay Sir," one student called out and he looked up, ignoring the snickers - _it's easy to mispronounce_ , he told himself, wondering how old these damned students really were - "How old're you?" he answered almost without thinking, irritation in his voice.  
"Eighteen." he replied, a touch sharply. There was instant muttering, again, and he remembered - quickly tapping into the computer and logging into his admin login. Of course, it was an electronic system. Swallowing back his embarrasment, he was about to call out names, when another voice spoke.  
"Sir, if you're only eighteen, how can you teach us? Are you even qualified?"  
"This is MIT, one of the best colleges in America. _Of course I'm qualified!_ " he retorted, realising he shouldn't be letting the students get to him, "I have two doctorates and a teaching qualification, biology and engineering, hence why I'll be teaching you biology." he said, keeping his voice as clear as he could.  
"If you have a preferred name," he continued, forcing back the anger, "Tell me when I call your name, then we can get on with the lesson..."  
\---  
The first day was a special kind of agony. He stumbled through his first class, acting the biggest idiot in the world - the class became basically unresponsive half way through and he was getting to the stage where he felt like walking out. This was MIT, for god's sake, and yet this was the response he got? "Why did I think this was a good idea?" he groaned, sitting in the biology staff room at lunch and staring at his screen. His food sat in front of him, uneaten, next to the open laptop, the little cursor blinking quietly at his face. He was a student, still, despite all this - genius alert, he'd decided that he would take on another doctorate while he taught these classes. Special circumstances, all his life he'd been special circumstances, and here he was again.

"Two doctorates and a teaching qualification at the same time. Come on, Newton, you can do this." he murmured, "You did that, this is nothing." he forced himself to type, gritting his teeth until the words flowed out with more fluidity than before, though he was too on edge to hit his real pace.

The afternoon was worse than the morning, but the rest of the week but that all into place. Although he got better, his perfectly planned out classes dissolved before his eyes; it became clear pretty quickly that this was far more difficult than he'd anticipated. His hair was no longer carefully brushed but instead fluffed into a 'mad professor' style, too tired to do much with it; his bright eyes becoming rapidly shadowed. By the end of the first month he was shattered as could be, the extra work cutting aggressively into his marking time. 

Occasional moments tormented his sleep; the three mistakes he'd made in the same class, all called out by students - accidentally spilling acid over a sheaf of worksheets and having to spend the rest of the lesson improvising - the student he'd persuaded to stand up and try to answer the question only to have them faint.. he still felt awful for not believing them when they said they felt sick. Shame still washed over him because of that. Sleep was getting harder and harder, until he became practically dependant on the sweet scent of coffee that he'd previously despised. 

A month in, and he finally cracked; it was the lesson before lunch, when people generally seemed the most responsive, but nobody was doing as they were told - they were in one of the labs, and this was a very basic experiment for this group, yet none of them were paying attention. He'd had to shoot across the room three or four times - much to the giggles of everyone else, due to his short stature - and snap at people to _stop doing that it is ridiculously dangerous_. He was getting to the stage of ripping the hair out of his head when he decided he couldn't take any more, slamming both palms violently on his desk.  
" _SHUT THE FUCK UP!_ " he roared out, and everyone froze, looking at him in absolute shock.

He took a careful breath. "Maybe I should get a whistle!" he snapped out, "What are we, twelve?! You're all adults! You are in an _MIT classroom_ , yet you insist on acting like you're in highschool!" he could hear the slight German accent coming out, although it had been mostly driven back in the last three years here. "I don't understand." he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, before shoving them back on to stare around the room at the shocked students. " _What do you want from me?_ I have to follow what I'm told to teach you. That's why you're paying a ridiculous amount of money for this course, but you're wasting it. Here's your coursework, _kids_!" he stiffened his shoulders, "Think about it. Tell me what you want, what you expect from me. I want you all to have one thing you want from me, as your tutor, and one thing you will give me in return. Now get out, all of you. I'll clear up." there was no movement.  
" _Out!_ " he snarled, and they gathered equipment, throwing their goggles in the bucket and muttering lowly in a quiet, shellshocked way. Newt slumped into the chair as soon as they'd gone and put his head on his arms, shoulders shaking as he tried not to sob audibly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome!


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I am British and have absolutely NO idea how an American College party would work so I am basing this entirely off television okay thank.

Chapter Three

Newt was still living in his student accomodation, on a technicality - he was still a student, and over the last three years, the little room had become rather like a home to him. It was messy, filled with various models that he'd collected as he'd expanded on the love of old monster movies his uncle had instilled; stacks of manga books, animé DVDs, and various films stacked neatly around the room. It was late in the day on Friday, and he'd just returned to his room after clearing up the lab from that disastrous last lesson, half expecting his superior to storm into his bedroom and demand he explain his inappropriate behaviour.

Nobody came, and he focused on his computer, split screened between the two he was working on - devising a lesson plan and working on his coursework for the next doctorate he was taking. He was startled as somebody rapped on the door, fear jolting through his chest, and stood up to open the door. Relaxing at the sight of Toby, who was still on the biology doctorate, he grinned and leaned in the doorway.  
"Hey, dude," Toby was always saying that and Newt had found himself starting to pick up on the habit recently; he was almost 25 but they'd always got on well. "Look's like you're getting kinda burnt out, man. You're eighteen - you should come party with the guys tonight."

Of all the things Toby could say, he didn't imagine it to be that. Looking up at the older student, he hesitated, then grinned, letting himself relax a little.  
"Finally decided I'm allowed to be part of the gang, huh?" he commented, playfully, and Toby laughed in that deep way of his, making something in Newt's stomach jump slightly. Despite his age, he'd been avoiding relationships the entire time he was there, always working... Toby had been the first guy he'd really accepted his attraction to, but he'd never had a problem with that.

"Well, it's Cameron hosting it, and he's kinda funny about under eighteens. C'mon, dude." he gestured, "Grab your shit and let's go, I wanna get wasted." he hesitated, just a moment, looking back at the computer - then just grabbed his jacket from his chair, tugging it on, wallet and cell shoved into his pockets. Locking the door behind him, he looked up at Toby then fell into step, excitement and nervousness fizzling in the base of his stomach. He always thought the age limit for drinking here - twenty one - was absolutely ridiculous, but he'd always considered it basic logic to obey the law. Stress changes morals, he mused, slipping into the backseat and greeting a few others from the old course - most were amicable, but Amy gave him a dirty look. Probably jealous that he'd shot through the course a year early. Oh well.  
\---

It was being hosted at one of the rich boys' houses - Cameron Newt didn't know, he must be on another course - but judging from the amount of people pulling up, this wasn't unlikely. In fact, it seemed like there were over a hundred students parking in the grounds of the mansion. He hadn't exactly lived in a poor household in Germany, but the sight of the beautiful house made him whistle. Toby laughed, and patted him on the shoulders, "I think you're gonna be an interesting drunk, dude." he joked, leading the way, "I'll keep an eye on you, don't worry. I'm designated driver tonight." Newt grinned up at him, practically jittering, and not just from nerves. _His arm is really warm._

He did get a few odd glances, but everyone seemed to be quite content, laughing and joking; a good sound system was pumping out dance music, and a few people were dancing slightly, though nobody was inebriated enough to really go for it just yet. He was handed a cup of beer and took a sip. Toby laughed at the expression on his face and patted him on the back, "You get used to it, dude. C'mon." it was after he'd been there about half an hour with Toby's arm glued around his shoulders that Newt realised something. He stepped back and looked up at his friend.

"What's wrong?" Toby asked over the music, dark eyes meeting Newt's, an eyebrow raising slightly. Newt stiffened his shoulders, trying to meet them, though his eyes kept slipping over the contours of his dark skinned hands.  
"Am I here as your date?"  
Toby's eyes widened slightly, confusion flickering in them, and then he chuckled, and this time Newt had a feeling it was done to deliberately make his stomach squirm. _Down boy_. 

"Not that kinda shindig, dude," Toby chuckled in his throat, "But I wouldn't be opposed." his licked his lips and took a gulp of the beer, which Newt imitated, hand just a little shaky right now. He felt like he was ridiculously young right now, as Toby eyed him, as if surprised by his response. "Aren't you gonna say anything?" he laughed again, looking away, "Oh, there's Cameron. Tell you what, dude, you go and socialise - I'll catch up with you later, alright?" Newt couldn't get a word out before he'd disappeared into the crowd.

Okay. Well, that was... what was that? Was that a relationship offer, or ...? A little shellshocked, Newt began to wander around the party, too nervous to actually greet anyone. Then he spotted someone unexpected - Jason. A member of his class. Without thinking, he approached, hitching a smile onto his face, looking at him - Jason was 22, holding a cup of beer, and looked incredibly surprised to see him.  
"Dr Geiszler!" he commented, looking a little confused, "What're you doing at a student party?" 

"Call me Newt!" he responded, feeling the alcohol buzz just a little now, "I am a student too, dude, I'm studying for a chemistry doctorate."  
"But you're a teacher!"  
"I'm doing both!" he laughed slightly at how impressed Jason looked. Hell, maybe this was a good thing, "I've been at MIT since I was fifteen, did two doctorates and a teaching course at the same time," he explained, "Got a special scholarship." he shrugged slightly. Jason let out a low whistle.

"I guess you definitely are qualified enough. Damn." he laughed and Newt joined in, draining his beer and looking around for where to get a topup, "You ever been to one of Cameron's parties before? Aren't you too young to drink?"  
"Technically, but dude, it doesn't really matter." Newt shrugged, "Cameron says eighteen and over, I'm eighteen. Age is eighteen in Germany!" he pointed out. Jason laughed in agreement and led Newt over to get another beer, introducing him to a few people on the way. 

Newt found himself relaxing, catching occasional glimpses of Toby as he began to mingle, being introduced to a few more people. He spotted some who were on his course or the courses he'd already completed, greeting them, and soon found he was liking the taste of the drinks he was given. He had to be shown how to do a shot, but he got the hang of it pretty quickly; after the shots was when the night started to get fuzzy.  
\---  
 _Thud. Thud. Thud._  
Was that his heart or something else? Dragged slowly from the dead sleep of the horrendeously hung over, it wasn't long until he forced his eyes open. The world was swinging side to side in lurching swoops, like he was on a spinning top coming to it's inexorable end. Some instinct made him jerk his arm out - and he only managed to grab the wastepaper bin just in time to empty his stomach into it. Leaning over the side of the bed, panting slightly, he started the morning with the most beautiful of ironic sentences - "I am never doing that ever again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, _please_ leave comments/creative criticism :D Thank you.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The entire block was very quiet that day, seeing as it had been a massive party and practically everyone was brutally hung over. Newt became very good friends with the wastepaper basket, wondering why he ever decided getting drunk like that was a good idea. His jacket and shoes were discarded just inside the door, which was shut but not locked (though he hadn't gotten up to see that), and he hoped to hell his cell and wallet were still in that; he'd managed to get out of his jeans but it seemed he had given up on his shirt. Through an extreme force of effort, he undid the buttons and threw it to the side.

It was only after he'd been dozing on and off until about three PM that he got enough strength to drag on a robe and pad to the kitchen, downing three glasses of water, before he made use of the bathroom and slumped back into his room. Toby passed him and grinned slightly; although it had been a bummer missing out on the alcohol of the party, he really didn't miss this side of it. Newt didn't care. He just wanted to hide in a dark cave until life went away again, burrowing into his bed once more. Late that evening he ordered a Chinese takeaway, padding down to pay and accept the food, noticing the student noses poking out at the scent of greasy food.

He shut his door in a very firm _not sharing_ gesture, but when Toby came in and pulled up a chair, serving himself, Newt found himself not complaining. The companionship seemed almost comforting.  
Though he did have to clean out the wastepaper bin himself.

\---

The students were there before him, as per normal, as he walked in on Monday, eyeing them. He'd decided, after the party, that he had been going about this wrong. Hadn't he decided to get into this gig on a whim because of the teacher being a dickweed when he was new? He was supposed to be the fun teacher, the one who reminded them of why they were passionate, why they'd worked so hard to get here to MIT. He nodded at Jason, when he waved, and grinned at everyone else, putting his laptop on the table. "Morning, class!" he called out, ignoring the surprised looks at the lack of his usual ... well, listlessness. 

He pulled up the online register, looking around at them - most of the belligerent looks had returned, but he was a little surprised by how many of them actually looked _engaged_. Paying attention to him. He pulled an apple out of his bag and threw it hand to hand, "Now, I know we're not physicists, but how many of you know my first name?" he asked. There was a little confusion, before someone called out,  
"Newton?"  
Newt grinned and nodded, "Correct, as in Isaac Newton. Now of course the famous story, I think you all know? I spent rather a lot of time with these hitting me in the head." he took a bite of the apple then put it down, swallowing quickly. "Today I want to talk a little gravity. Rather, what happens to us over time, right? Gravity. Makes us all droopy. So today we're going to be talking about what causes cell decay..."

He wasn't sure what it was - but something had changed. Maybe it was the party, maybe it was his decision to be a little more fun... but everything was starting to swoop up. The class engaged, and it wasn't long before it really felt like they were achieving something. He left twenty minutes at the end of the lesson, having remembered his edicit in the lab last time. "So." he clapped his hands, "You know what I want for next lesson. So now..." he changed the slide to a blank one and opened up a new text box.  
"What do you want me to do for you guys? I'm sure you remembered last time when I had a little, ah, slip of my temper." he did an awkward fiddle with his tie and a jokingly nervous glance around, prompting a few grins.

"This is important, guys. This is why I wanted to become a teacher. I've been here since I was fifteen, and I had a hell of time for being young. I didn't want to turn into a d-bag teacher. I still don't. So c'mon. We'll go in register order, alright? So that's you, Cody..."

It was almost comforting, as he wrote down two lists; 'what I will do' and 'what I will receive'. When everyone had spoken he looked up at the list, and nodded, slowly. "Alright. So, a pretty good generalised rule..." he moved a handful of them. "Don't be a d-bag, right?" he deleted them and wrote 'Don't be a DB' on the slide. There were laughs, and also agreement. "Now this goes for both sides, dudes." he realised he'd picked up Toby's pet name, "But I'm happy to agree for that..."

When all was said and done, they'd come down to an agreement and a list of ten rules. Everyone seemed happy, and the shared rule idea had infiltrated easily enough - _all_ of them would work to those rules. Newt looked back at the class, and looked at the clock, "Alright, get to your next lecture, guys. And remember - if people say having class rules is dumb? Well, it's not. It's all part of diplomacy. You seem to settle things better than the government!" he joked, grinning as they filtered out.

Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as it had started out.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Things were starting to feel... _easier_. Newt had a feeling he'd hit a good stride with this - the students were working well and he was finding his doctorate work fairly simple. Positivity was rising like a wave in him - so he made a decision to join another course. MIT was pretty amazed at how much this student was doing, so another 'special circumstances' was arranged, for him to take on the work in a way similar to how he was balancing his current doctorate. Ah, the beauty of the internet age... he sat in the science tutor office one lunch, tapping away on his keyboard, when one of the other teachers approached him.

He didn't notice until the other coughed slightly, and he looked up, grinning as he saw one of his old tutors. "Hey, Graham." he said, brightly, but his face fell a little as he recognised the expression on the other man's face. He'd always admired his tutor - Graham McGeehin was a rather strict teacher, but he knew his stuff - yet he looked incredibly disapproving. "What's the problem?" he asked, feeling a little flare of fear, wondering if he'd been told about the underage drinking.  
"I'm worried about you, Geiszler."  
Resisting the urge to call him sir, Newt frowned in confusion,  
"What's wrong?"  
"You're working too hard, son. Teaching, and I heard you're doing another PhD... don't drive yourself into the ground." he patted Newt on the shoulder, "I'd hate to see my best student fall apart."

A little perturbed, Newt watched Graham walk away, before returning to working on his computer. He tried to shake off that uncomfortable feeling; _I can handle it_ , he thought, determinedly, _he doesn't know what he's talking about_. Crunching a chip, he nodded to himself, but the discomfort was firmly settled in the line of his shoulders. Across the room, the grey-haired man shook his head with a concerned sigh, going back to marking.

\--

He was tired, Newt would admit that - coffee was now his lifeblood. Despite that, he still found himself going out some evenings and most weekends; Toby got into the habit of sharing his room while they both worked. Sometimes Newt would help him with work he'd long since completed, but the quality of just company with no pressure was brilliant. He started to wonder where the other wanted this relationship to go, though - at points it would seem that Toby only wanted a close friendship... though other times he'd be surprised by the dark arms sliding around him from behind, or murmurs in his ear as he worked on lesson plans. 

On the weekends, Toby would take him out, to bars or clubs, introducing him to people until he had a fairly decent friend circle. He was starting to be noticed, and it felt brilliant. He did feel slightly bad about the $150 false ID he was using, but really, it was a stupid law - that's what he told himself. He did his best to avoid too many photos of them appearing on Facebook, ignoring Toby's jokes when he requested them taken down. Every so often he'd bump into a student, normally with the same surprise as Jason, though it tended to end in a less friendly way. He still felt like he was making progress.

He began to build his tolerance a little, though avoiding any hangovers like he'd hit on that first night out. Mondays were generally the worst, but most students felt the same way, so he didn't mind too much - the rest of the week for his work and he was still very much in control of that. As he relaxed into teaching the classes, they blew him away more often than not with how smart they actually were - he began to learn how to banter back properly while still being their tutor. 

It wasn't until two months after that first party that he got a surprising invitation; the class had been dismissed and Newt was packing up for lunch, planning to work on his doctorates (as per usual), when he realised there was a student stood uncomfortably in front of his podium. Doing up his bag he looked up and grinned, seeing Jason. "Hey, dude," he'd picked up the term pretty much permanently, after spending so much time with Toby, "What's up?" He pulled on his bag, jacket over his arm. 

Jason looked a little uncomfortable, and Newt frowned, but the other spoke before he could.  
"Well, uh, the class is going out tomorrow night," he explained, "Celebrating Kelsey's birthday. Thought we'd invite you. It's just gonna be like, pre drinks at mine then a crawl and back to Damien's. Would you like to come?" Newt was surprised, thinking it over for a moment. Tomorrow was Thursday - but that meant the class would be pretty out of it anyway. He hesitated, before beaming at Jason.  
"Sure thing, dude." he said, watching Jason grin back, "What time, and where?"  
"We're gonna meet at my dorm tomorrow at seven. Block C, room 104."  
Newt nodded, heading for the door, holding it for Jason to head out in front of him. "I look forward to it, dude."

\--

He felt ever so slightly uncomfortable, though it shouldn't really have been any different to another party. He knocked on Jason's door, wearing tight fitting jeans and a decently nice black shirt, though he'd tried to look more his age than a teacher. To that effect, he was also wearing a leather bracelet and wooden necklace, hair somewhat styled up with gel. He'd also brought a bottle of WKD, because you can never have too much booze, right?

Jason answered the door and immediately grinned. Newt was caught a little offguard - apparently Jason had a very practical attitude to class, because he was pretty much punk right now; heavy boots, tight leathers... trying just to grin, he offered the bottle, "Hey, dude. Wow, nice style." he commented, and Jason pulled him in, laughing. About half the students were already there, most sitting around with beers. They waved and called him over as a beer was handed to him. Sitting on a beanbag, he looked around the group, a little surprised with how friendly everyone was being. This was setting up to be a pretty awesome night. As more people arrived they moved from beers to alcopops, starting drinking games, most of them amazed at how little Newt knew.

By the time they were at the club, Newt was already pretty sloshed; he switched to soft drinks for a little while, finding that Damien was starting to almost... take care of him. It was Damien who'd handed him a Coke when he'd asked for another beer, but he almost appreciated that. The arm around his waist, not so much. The place was surprisingly quiet, though the dance floor was still full of the students, and he moved among them, dancing with whoever pulled on his hand. The fizzy drinks and the fresh air brought him a little more sensible as they headed to the next club, though he was still giggling and stumbling. Damien's arm gripped him around the waist and steered him into the next club, handing over the fee and receiving the stamp.

His brain was still foggy enough to not realise Damien was pulling him away from the group, into a quiet corner. He almost didn't recognise that there were drunk lips pushing against his, a hand on his waist; when it clicked he pulled away, blinking up at the bright blue eyes, the taller student swaying slightly. "What're ... y'doin', dude?" he slurred out, trying to pull away a little. Damien frowned.  
"S'rry, uhh, Newt, I know... I know you're my teacher," he mumbled, shaking his head to try to clear it a little. "I'll let... sorry." Newt stumbled away without even thinking, back into the dancing crowd. When Damien reappeared and handed him a beer, with an apologetic smile, he accepted. 

It seemed after that everything became foggy, a haze like drunkenness but somehow... thicker. More smoke than fog. He vaguely remembered shots again, getting into a taxi with Damien and a few other students, hands on his leg and kisses that he didn't reject this time; the students flooding into a small room, some more awake than others... the sofa springs creaking, and a bed, the door shut between them and the others... inexperience and drunkenness and perhaps something else mixing together in a not completely unpleasant cocktail. There were flickering images that stuck with him - hands exploring sensitive skin, the sight of the pillow he was biting hard, and the sensation of a little too much force before he was throwing up a toxic mix of alcohol over the edge of the bed.

He didn't remember Damien whispering apologies or the gentle touches with a slightly damp flannel, the glass of water he was fed, or being curled up with tight in a single bed in a dirty student room. 

He had a feeling he'd remember being woken by an angry phonecall from his boss, while still piss drunk in bed with one of his worst students, for the rest of his life.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally uploaded the wrong chapter. Oops! Well here we go, here's the real chapter six. Enjoy! Remember to leave a comment!

Chapter Six

"Oh no. Shit no. Fuck the fucking no, no, _no_." Newt dropped the phone on the bed and put his head in his hands, trying to catch his breathing. Damien groaned and sat up behind him, rubbing a hand through his hair, sliding out to touch Newt's back. Jumping out of the bed at the contact, Newt felt himself go bright red, grabbing his pants from the floor and tugging them on before searching for his jeans. "Damien. You're late." his voice crackled in his throat, "So am I. Shit, shit - I told them I was held up and I'll be there in ten minutes." he swallowed hard, looking at the sleepy student. "If anyone knows about this I'll be fired." he sunk back to sitting on the bed, putting his head in his hands, fighting off terror.

He could hear Damien was still trying to work out exactly what was going on as he forced himself into his clothes as quickly as possible, staggering into the lounge; about half the students were still zonked out across the room, some on the sofa, some on the floor. He found his shoes and tugged them on, fleeing. Damien called after him but he was already crossing the campus to his room, desperately gathering his papers for the class, his laptop, everything he needed - taking a moment to swig mouthwash, looking in the mirror in the bathroom and running his hand through his hair.

He got into the class, glad that it was his students from last night; most of them were practically passed out on the desk. His head throbbed, but he couldn't find an excuse to leave for coffee. Ignoring the snickers from those who had drunk considerably less, he dragged himself through what he could of the presentation. He didn't notice until a few more wobbled in that he wasn't wearing his glasses. Samantha handed them to him. "Damien, Carl and Rachel aren't coming in," she told him, looking as wrecked as he felt. "Said to tell you." he popped them on and nodded, coughing uncomfortably.

At break he rubbed his eyes, sitting at his desk for a few long minutes in silence, before he forced himself up to the break room. No sign of his boss. Relaxing slightly, he made himself a cup of coffee and was about to slip back down to set up for the next class, feeling slightly more human - when the door opened and his boss stepped in.

Terror streaked through him, sure he was about to be fired. Pam was not the sort of woman that her name would suggest. Six foot tall, wide as a truck, with a nasty temper but a genius brain. The students she taught were terrified of her but also admired her hugely - hence why she was the head of sciences at MIT. Newt swallowed very hard, looking up at her as she folded her arms, looking at him like he was a student again. (Probably remembering the time he somehow exploded a frog when she was covering his biology class.) His mouth went dry and he lowered his coffee slightly.  
"Dr Geiszler," she said, slowly, voice with that nasty sandpaper rasp, "If you're unwell, just ring ahead and a substitute can be arranged. Your pay will be docked, but if you don't contact us, then it puts your job in danger. See it doesn't happen again." he nodded meekly as she walked off, before scurrying out of the room.

He didn't hear the other teachers giggling as the door shut.

\--

"I heard you fucked that skinny little runt that you teach."

Newt jumped, looking up at his door, hands stilling on the keyboard as he met Toby's eyes. Shit. Toby was clearly pissed, judging by the over-casual lean against the wall and the tight fists in his folded arms. Swallowing hard, he leant back a little bit, trying to relax.  
"I was kinda drunk," he admitted, rubbing a hand through his hair. He hadn't seen Toby at all yesterday, and now it was Saturday evening, he realised that Toby must've been blanking him intentionally. Oops. "I would never have done that normally, dude. I didn't - I didn't instigate it."

Toby sauntered into the room and Newt stayed sat down, watching as his ... friend? Surveyed the room in a way he never had. Toby knew how his room was laid out, he'd spent enough time in here -   
"So I don't mean anything to you, huh?" he murmured. Newt's heart dropped.  
"Toby, it's not-"  
"I guess I made a mistake, dude." he said, sharply, meeting Newt's eyes. "Don't bother me any more. You're just a little slut."   
The door slammed behind him and Newt stared at the poster on the back of the door, not absorbing anything for a long moment. 

Saving the document he had been working on, he popped the CD drive and put in the tatty old Godzilla DVD, curling up on the bed with his laptop.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

If he was listless in lessons, nobody commented. He worked about as well as he had, the class engaging and buoying him up. He didn't speak to Damien - and Damien didn't raised his hand to answer or ask questions. No more parties happened. Newt shrunk back into himself, focusing on what mattered - his work, the doctorates and the teaching. He felt like he'd been dancing and now he was on the edge of the stage, the crowd pushing and pushing... the only thing that was keeping him there was the fact that he had this work to do. Studies. Proving himself. Not that he'd heard from his father for well over a year now... 

It was an unusual relationship. As if he was leaning on his class for the support, but gingerly skirting them at the same time - they knew what had happened, of course, but if word of it reached faculty, Newt was never told. A few weeks after the incident, he found himself relaxing about the issue. Nobody was arresting him (although they were both legal, it was kinda frowned upon to sleep with students, and he knew he'd lose his job.) He began to settle back into teaching properly, his old passion returning - and his doctorate work began to improve, as well. Everything was _fine_. 

There was no need to give up this fun lifestyle just because of one accident, after all. He just had to avoid students, that was all - not sleep with random people, that was a good plan, really. He didn't need Toby any more to go out and have a good time! The air between them had been very strained, recently. Honestly, he'd been avoiding everyone in the dorm recently. It just didn't feel worth it. Newt nodded, saving his work, and got to his feet, grabbing his jacket with a determined frown. It was a Saturday, and he was going to go out, get drunk, have a good night. He was a student! That was what being a student was all about, wasn't it?

\--

"What is it?!" he was in a club, already on his way to a brilliant buzz, beer in hand and something small and white being shoved into his other. He'd been dancing with these drunk girls for about an hour now - he'd turned up alone at the club and moved around uncomfortably for a while before they decided they wanted to dance with him. It was quite a pleasant experience. She'd pulled the tablet from her bag and shared them out with all the members of their group. She just laughed, flipping her dyed-purple hair over her shoulder, as the others popped the tablets into their mouths.

"Swallow it whole," she told him, and he did so, with a swig of his beer. Something told him this was a bad idea, but alcohol and sexy girls did quite a lot to encourage him into stupid things. "You'll enjoy it, I promise!" she shouted over the music. It was only a few minutes later that he started to realise it was probably E. Too late now. Another thing he'd never intended to do - drink, drugs, sex with ... well he still never intended to have sex with students Trying to shake off that thought, he swigged his drink again.  
"Hey, what was your name?" he asked, and she giggled, lowering her dark eyes.  
"Kat." He grinned as the music changed, dancing a little closer to her, meeting her eyes.  
"Nice to meet you, Kat." he said, brightly, "Thanks for the present." she giggled and pressed up against him, body still moving.

He definitely knew when it kicked in. There was no subtlty - he was comfortable, buzzing slightly, when energy hit him like a tidal wave and he could almost taste the music. Kat laughed at his response, moving with him as he danced, out toward the centre of the dance floor now. The world seemed to be vibrating through his bones, singing to him in a way the pulsing beats never could. Everything became a smear of beautiful colour and movement. He was vaguely aware of exhaustion kicking in, a loud argument in the club that ended up with most of the occupants being ejected.

When the E high started to end, Newt had just stumbled into his room. Exhaustion slammed him, feeling incredibly worthless. What had he done? He forced himself to his bed, slumping down. His head was spinning and his throat dry. Nausea rose, bubbling up again, and he inhaled shallowly as possible. The world was no longer beautiful and vibrating - more swinging unhappily around him. He hid his face in his pillow, then under his pillow, before he gave up, laying limply in the dark. Regrets slowly gave way to sleep. In the morning, regrets had gone, and all he remembered was the high.

He should've realised then, but maybe it was already too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments and criticism happily received, thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments really, really appreciated! Creative criticism is loved. Thank you!


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